My Skin
by adpi24
Summary: TimCalleigh. Calleigh's feelings over what happened in "Lost Son". Please read and review.


My Skin

Written by: Brianna AKA adpi24

Spoilers: "Lost Son", Season 3, episode 1

Ship: Tim/Calleigh

Authors Note: Now this is my first Miami fiction, so please be nice. I appreciate any constructive criticism, since I am not an avid Miami watcher.

A: I am basing this fiction of the beautiful song of the same name by Natalie Merchant, so she owns the lyrics used in the fiction. Not me.

B: I got an inspiration to write this on a whim. I was watching the episode, Speed had just been shot (and died) and I just felt compelled to write. Like I said, I am not an avid Miami watcher but I figured "how hard can it be to write from a female's perspective since HI I'm female". So this story came out.

C: I must admit that I cried while writing this. I may not know the character that well, but as a woman I'm trying to put how I would feel in this situation into her.

D: Again since I'm not an avid watcher of Miami I'm not sure what Speed's parent's names are. I did check the Miami website (courtesy of CBS) and their names were not mentioned. It just says what his parents did (job wise) and that he has a younger brother. So due to this I'm taking some literary license and naming them. If the show gave them names please let me know.

A BIG special thanks to my beta MissyJane. Thanks so much Missy, I really appreciate it.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Ah**_

_**Take a look at my body**_

_**Look at my hands**_

_**There's so much here**_

_**That I don't understand**_

**_Your face saving promises_**

_**Whispered like prayers**_

_**I don't need them**_

* * *

I'm numb.

I've been numb since I received the call stating "officer involved shooting".

The numbness overwhelmed me when I arrived at the scene and I saw who had been shot. I went straight to autopilot. Horatio was kneeling over his body while I was attempting to hold the tears back and control my emotions.

I'm in shock. I don't know what to do. I cannot believe that he is gone. It was only a couple of hours ago that I was giving him a hard time for using my equipment then letting it die.

I notice that Alex is now here. She is speaking to H. After a moment he gets up and walks over to me. In a slightly steady voice I ask him if there is anything I need to know about the shooting. The most he can tell me is that everything happened extremely quickly. He hands me Tim's weapon and his own. Before I can say anything IAB shows up and I quickly make my exit.

* * *

_****_

_**Cause I've been treated so wrong**_

_**I've been treated so long**_

_**As if I'm becoming untouchable**_

_**Well contempt loves the silence**_

_**It thrives in the dark**_

_**With fine winding tendrils**_

_**That strangle the heart**_

_**They say that promises**_

_**Sweeten the blow**_

**_But I don't need them_**

_**No, I don't need them**_

* * *

I spend the rest of my day in a haze, just going through the motions. While in the middle of processing Horatio and Tim's weapons I'm corned by IAB who I inform that I "haven't finished processing evidence". Satisfied by my answer he leaves me in peace.

Yeah right, what peace?

I am trying to hold it together but the longer time passes the more I just want to break down.

I am pushing myself, I know it. But I can't go home. Home just doesn't feel "right" anymore.

I need to get "this" done. I need to keep my focus.

After the grueling hours of testing and analyzing I am able to approach Horatio with the results.

I find him in the morgue.

I quietly approach him. I inform him in as steady of a voice that I can carry, that there is no doubt that Tim had to look down at his gun. Horatio fired six round, Tim none. The "official" report will state "gun malfunction". The only relief is that the IAB investigation will be closed.

Gun malfunction.

It doesn't help to diminish the complete and utter sense of loss that I feel.

I ask H if I can help with Tim's stuff, he tells me no. As I turn to leave I am pulled into a hug and told "you hang in there".

If only he knew.

* * *

_****_

_**I've been treated so wrong**_

_**I've been treated long**_

_**As if I'm becoming untouchable**_

_**I'm a slow dying flower**_

**_I'm a frost killing hour_**

**_Sweet turning sour_**

_**And untouchable**_

* * *

**__**

I make my way to the locker room, avoiding as many people as I can. I grab my stuff and bolt for my car.

I need to get out of here as quick as I can.

I manage to get to my apartment in one piece. I unlock the door and I see it.

Laying right there, in plain sight, draped over the couch like a rag doll.

Tim's favorite shirt.

I quickly shut and lock the door. Make my way over to the couch and pick his shirt up. Before I can stop myself I have collapsed to the floor, shirt in hand, my body wracked in sobs.

I don't understand.

Why was he taken from me? What did I do to deserve this?

We were happy.

We were in love.

I love him more than I thought I could love anyone in my entire life.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

We were supposed to get married, buy a house, buy a dog, have children.

Why?

Why is this happening?

* * *

_**Oh I need**_

_**The darkness**_

_**The sweetness**_

_**The weakness**_

_**I need this**_

* * *

**__**

I wake up hours later. Still on the floor. Still holding his shirt. I slowly, ever so slowly, get up. I have a pounding headache now. I make my way over to the kitchen, grab some Tylenol and take some. I then head down the hall to "our" room.

As I walk into the room, it hits me again.

Everything of his, still here.

His favorite jeans. His favorite shoes. His cologne.

His scent is everywhere.

I'm drowning in it.

I strip out of my clothes. I grab a shirt of Tim's and his boxers. I put them on and climb into bed.

It is empty.

Oh, so empty.

"_I love you Cal."_

"_I love you too, Tim"_

I'm never going to hear that from him again.

If this is a battle, I'm losing. If this is a test, I'm failing.

I need him.

* * *

_**I need **_

_**A lullaby**_

_**A kiss goodnight**_

_**Angel sweet**_

_**Love of my life**_

_**O, I need this**_

* * *

**__**

I awake the next morning hugging Tim's pillow.

Nothings changed.

Oh, how I had hoped it had.

I had prayed that I would awake and everything that happened the day before was a horrible and gut-wrenching nightmare.

Before I can contemplate my life, I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom and throw up.

I think the stress has finally caught up with me.

I wash out my mouth and look at myself in the mirror.

My eyes are bloodshot.

My face is pale.

I turn on the water and cup some in my hands rinsing off my face.

It doesn't help.

I hear a knock on my door and the phone ringing at the same time.

I grab the portable as I make my way to the door.

"Hold on" I call out to whomever is on the other side.

"Hello" I answer

"Calleigh its Horatio."

"Hi"

"Look Calleigh you might not be ready to tell me exactly what is going on, but I don't want to see you in today. Do you understand?"

Do I understand? Fine by me I had no intention of going to work today, tomorrow or for the rest of the week for that matter.

"Okay"

"Okay?" Horatio states to me somewhat sure of my answer. I think he expected me to fight his "decision".

"Listen, I've got people at my door so I really can't talk but I was intending to use some vacation time. I won't be in for the rest of the week. I need to go."

"Bye"

"Bye" I state and hang up the phone.

I hear a knocking on the door again and I look through the peep hole.

Oh God!

It's Tim's parents.

How am I supposed to face them? What do I say to them? What will they say to me?

I open the door ever so slowly and I am confronted by the faces of Jason and Megan Speedle. Before I can say anything both of them are throwing their arms around me, whispering words of comfort.

I feel confused.

Here are his parents. His parents. Instead of crying for the son they just lost they are holding the girlfriend he left behind while she cries.

I don't remember much of their visit.

I remember Megan walking me over to the couch and holding me while we both continued to cry.

I remember Jason closing my apartment door and then joining us on the couch. I recall him rubbing my back like any caring father would do in times of comfort.

The one part of their visit that I most assuredly remember is his mother saying, "the funeral will be in two days".

Two days.

In two days I bury the love of my life.

* * *

_**Do you remember the way **_

_**That you touched me before**_

_**All the trembling sweetness **_

_**I loved and adored?**_

_**Your face saving promises**_

_**Whispered like prayers**_

_**I don't need them**_

_**No, I don't need them**_

* * *

**__**

The two days went rather slowly for me.

I didn't do anything.

I only left the apartment when I absolutely had too, which was only when Megan and Jason insisted.

To make my days worse, I'm still throwing up. Megan witnessed one occasion of my sickness. She seems worried. I just informed her that I would be okay. She didn't seem to believe me, but what can she do?

I'll be okay. Who am I kidding?

I'm not going to be okay.

Today is going to be the second worst day of my life. The first when he died, the second when I had to bury him.

I take my time getting ready, taking a long shower, blow drying my hair, applying my delicate amount of makeup. When it came to getting dressed, well that took much longer.

I had been avoiding opening the closet, but now I had too.

So here I was sitting on _our _bed and looking at _his _clothes. It is almost too much for me.

I sit there long enough to let two hours go by. I didn't realize until I picked up my ringing cell phone and was told by Jason that they would be picking me up in ten minutes.

With this knowledge, I get up and grab the nearest suit, it just so happens to be black.

I dress, grab my cell phone and a purse and head out of _our_ apartment.

I can't call the apartment "mine" or "his", it was "ours". Our television, our bed, our kitchen, our couch.

I see his parents approach in their rental car and I get in. The drive to the station is in silence.

When we arrive, I see the dozens of motorcycle cops ready to lead the funeral processional.

It hits me.

This is real.

This isn't some horribly bad dream I'm not waking up from.

Tim is really dead.

Tim is never coming back to me.

I bury my face into my hands and begin to sob. I continue to cry while the processional begins.

* * *

_**O, I need **_

_**The darkness**_

_**The sweetness**_

_**The sadness**_

_**The weakness**_

_**I need this**_

_**I need **_

_**A lullaby**_

_**A kiss goodnight**_

_**The angel sweet**_

_**Love of my life**_

_**I need this**_

* * *

**__**

When we arrive at the cemetery, I have managed to control myself.

I'm not ready to "go public" with the fact that Tim and I were together. My team and the public doesn't need to know this fact. At least not yet.

I walk behind his parents who are following his coffin. Horatio and Eric are two of the palm bearers.

His parents take their seats in front of his coffin, I stand behind them, the Miami-Dade staff all surrounding me.

I'm managing to keep myself calm and collected through the service.

"You can do this" I keep reminding myself.

But I can't.

I officially broke down into tears when Megan is handed the American Flag that was draped on his coffin. I can't control myself.

Eric, being the wonderful friend he is, pulls me into a hug. My tear stained face colliding with his shoulder.

It just got worse.

When the gun salute began I became hysterical, just bawling, which is so uncharacteristic of me. I have tried to be a strong person but I can't handle this. I can't.

Jason comes around and takes me into his arms and guides me to sit with him and Megan as the coffin is being lowered.

I think _our_ secret is out now.

Someone wouldn't be reacting the way that I am if love wasn't involved.

* * *

_**Is it dark enough?**_

_**Can you see me?**_

_**Do you want me?**_

_**Can you reach me?**_

_**Or am I leaving**_

* * *

**__**

The rest of the day is a blur.

_Our _secret is out.

I was treated like family. Given condolences by staff I knew and staff I didn't know. When Horatio finally approached the family, I asked him how he knew.

He said, "It's written all over your face."

I thank him and he tells me to take as much time as I need.

The rest of the day is a blur. I remember bits and pieces about everything that occurred. Megan and Jason take me back to the apartment. They wait while I get changed into my pajamas and they wait until I fall asleep. I subconsciously hear them leave sometime around 7pm. My dreams are filled with Tim.

* * *

_**You better shut your mouth**_

_**Hold your breath**_

_**Kiss me know you'll catch my death**_

_**O, I mean it**_

* * *

**__**

Megan and Jason stay for two weeks. They have been extremely supportive. They haven't been pressuring me to go through Tim's things. They have insisted that I take as much time as I need and that they are here to support me.

On the two week anniversary of Tim's death I ask them to take me to his grave. I tell them that I need to talk to "him". They nod in understanding and agree to take me.

They follow a couple feet behind me as I approach his gravestone.

I sit down on the soft grass and trace the outline of his gravestone with my fingers

**Timothy Speedle**

**24 June 1973 – 20 September 2004**

**Friend, Brother, Son**

"Hi, it's me...I miss you...I miss you so much that it hurts." I whisper "I wish this was all just a bad dream and that you would come back to me but I know you won't. Your parents have been wonderful. They have been so supportive of me during this time."

I turn and smile at his parents, who from their spot about three feet behind me, smile back, before continuing.

"The team knows we were together. They figured it out at the funeral. I lost it...I couldn't handle that you were gone. I was hysterical. H came up to me and said it was "written all over my face". Which makes you wonder why they never picked up on it before? But that isn't why I came here. I came here to tell you that I love you. That I will _always_ love you and I will _never _stop loving you. I needed you to know this."

I talk to him for a couple more minutes before standing and placing a chaste kiss on his gravestone.

I walk back over to his parents, who both give me a hug.

"There's something else we need to do" I tell his parents.

"What's that?" Megan asks

"We need to change his headstone to say "friend, brother, son and father"".

Fin

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this little fiction. I have a great time writing it.

Please review and let me know how you enjoyed (or didn't but please use constructive criticism) my first Miami fiction. I'd really appreciate it.


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